


Vinny has a sleepover

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Vinny gets a life [27]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5702602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is tipsy enough that he wants to stay — not just tonight, that’s not the problem, but that he wants to go back to his room, curl up in his bed, and pretend none of this ever happened, wake up tomorrow and make the both of them breakfast — and just. He wants to <i>stay</i>. It’s a dangerous feeling, and it’s probably a sign he should go. Like, right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vinny has a sleepover

When they get back to Montreal they have that sleepover. Anton orders pizza while Thomas goes through the bar to find some wine that isn’t too fancy to be drunk alongside pizza and musicals. Thomas feels like he should have a backpack or something, a change of clothes, his toothbrush, all that, but he doesn’t need one, because he’s got a bureau full of clothes, a bathroom with all his toiletries. He only has as much as he needs at Sandro’s. Everything else is here.

He rests his forehead against the cool marble of the bar top, exhales, tries not to get overwhelmed by guilt. His room is going to be exactly the way he left it. He doesn’t even think he made the bed. And Anton keeps hesitating around him, like he’s afraid he’ll say something wrong. He does that a lot, takes a moment before he speaks, but it’s something he did around other people, not Thomas. Now Thomas is other people too, he guesses. 

“You find some?” Anton calls from the top of the stairs, and Thomas straightens up, brings up the first bottle he finds with a twist off cap.

Anton lets Thomas have the picks — he’d never admit he’d want to watch any musical at all, so it seems pointless to offer to let Anton pick one. Still, Thomas puts on Jesus Christ Superstar first, because Thomas knows Anton finds it hilarious — “What are they wearing on their _heads_?” Anton asks every time, which is a fair question — and they can snicker together at how seventies everything is.

They watch Chicago next, because it’s one of Anton’s favourites. Not that he’d ever admit that either, but Thomas knows him pretty well, he thinks. Anton threatened to clap a hand over Thomas’ mouth if he sang along to anything, but he doesn’t, groans loudly the first time Thomas starts and laughs when Thomas sticks his tongue out in response, then just lets him at it.

Thomas starts flagging a little toward the end of Chicago. He’s mostly finished his bottle, Anton’s probably had more, drinking his dumb gross liquor. He stifles a yawn, and Anton nudges him with his shoulder. 

“Seriously? You old man,” Anton says, then elbows him lightly in the side, which just makes Thomas realise how close together they’re sitting. 

Thomas doesn’t know if they’re sitting too close. He doesn’t think so, they’re not sitting any closer than they usually do, knees touching on the couch, further apart than if they were watching in bed, or the morning he woke up with Anton spooned up behind him, but he thinks those were maybe taking advantage, in hindsight. He didn’t mean to, but it probably was.

He thinks of Carms, who is one of the cuddliest people Thomas has ever met, and is totally straight as far as Thomas is aware and no less straight when he’s using Thomas as a pillow, but. It feels different when it’s Anton. Anton isn’t really the cuddling kind, and Thomas doesn’t feel the same way when Carmen is using him as a pillow as when Anton is tucked up against him.

Thomas is tipsy enough that he wants to stay — not just tonight, that’s not the problem, but that he wants to go back to his room, curl up in his bed, and pretend none of this ever happened, wake up tomorrow and make the both of them breakfast — and just. He wants to _stay_. It’s a dangerous feeling, and it’s probably a sign he should go. Like, right now.

He waits until the credits, at least, though he does make room between them, room that Anton, without seeming to know he’s doing it, erases as soon as Thomas has carefully made it.

“Bed time?” Anton asks.

“Yeah,” Thomas says. “I should head out.”

“Pardon?” Anton asks.

“I’m just gonna—” Thomas says, gestures vaguely. “Head out,” he finishes lamely.

“It’s a sleepover,” Anton says flatly. “The point is to sleep over. You’ve told me that a billion times.”

Maybe not a billion, but Thomas did hold sleepovers when they each had their own apartments, and did insist that Anton take the couch, the guest room, because otherwise it wasn’t a sleepover at all, duh, Tony. In the morning he’d make breakfast, and they’d lounge around in their PJs (Thomas insisted Anton brought PJs, or it wasn’t a sleepover at all), all lazy. Anton didn’t like being lazy, but he still was those mornings because Thomas asked him to be.

Thomas bites his lip.

“Just stay here,” Anton says, and when Thomas visibly hesitates, “I’m not asking you to move back in, okay, you let me know how you feel about that. But you’ve been drinking, so instead of getting a cab or making fucking Carmen pick you up, just stay in your room.”

“I can stay on the couch,” Thomas says.

Anton makes a frustrated noise. “All your shit is in your room,” he says. “Even your stupid body pillow.”

“My body pillow isn’t stupid,” Thomas protests. “It’s useful.”

“Go sleep with your useful stupid body pillow,” Anton says. “Don’t be an idiot.”

It really doesn’t seem worth it to argue, though Thomas is tempted to. He knows it’d hurt Anton if he left, and it’s not — it’s not like they’re sharing a bed or anything, Thomas isn’t going to wake up with Anton tucked up against him again, he isn’t really taking advantage, he thinks.

“Okay,” he says. “Um. See you in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Anton says, and Thomas goes up to his room, which is exactly how he left it, because of course it is, bed messy, even a towel on the floor, like he was just in it this morning or something.

He swallows hard, changing into pyjamas and then sitting gingerly on his bed.

 _staying at antons_ , Thomas sends Carmen, hoping he’s already asleep. No luck. Carms almost immediately responds with the most unimpressed looking emoticon Thomas has ever seen. 

_i know,_ Thomas replies, because he does. _see u tomorrow_.

Anton makes him breakfast the next morning, which is practically unheard of, and the eggs are kind of lumpy but Thomas eats them because Anton looks nervous, like if Thomas doesn’t eat them he’ll be upset, and Thomas has upset Anton enough lately. It’s just lumpy eggs, he can deal.

They have the day off, and if it was one of those sleepovers they had before, they’d probably hang out until at least early afternoon, but after breakfast Thomas gets ready to go.

“Plans?” Anton asks.

“I’m — apartment hunting,” Thomas says, which isn’t really a lie, but makes him feel guilty anyway.

“Oh,” Anton says. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, bud,” Thomas says, and when he gets home — Sandro serves him the real version of the emoticon unimpressed face and then ruins it by cracking up at the face Thomas makes back at him — he gets properly started on the apartment hunt thing. It’s not that Thomas wasn’t looking for a place before, not even that he was being half-hearted about it, but he was maybe sticking to too narrow criteria, looking for the kind of apartment he had before he moved in with Anton, sticking to neighbourhoods he already knew well. 

Thomas finds a place within a week once he widens the net. He was still mostly looking at apartments, because a house feels wasteful, too big, but he finds a cute little bungalow that isn’t much bigger than his last apartment was. It has a decently sized backyard the twins could run around in during the summer when he babysits, two bedrooms so Meg or his parents can stay, and a finished basement he could put a third bed in, so Meg _and_ his parents could stay over, if they wanted. It’s a bit further from the Bell Centre, from downtown, from Westmount, than he’d been planning on, but it’s close to the practice facility, and driving on the island’s always stressed him out anyway.

“I think I found the perfect place,” Thomas tells Anton before practice.

“Cool, Vinny,” Anton says flatly, focused on lacing up his skates.

“I was wondering—” Thomas starts, a little tentative, and when Anton looks up, “I’m going over after practice, do you want to come with, see if you can find something wrong with it before I sign the lease?”

Anton looks startled for a moment, but it fades. “Yeah,” he says. “Sounds good.”

“Okay,” Thomas says. “Good.”

“Stop grinning at each other like idiots and get out there,” Gagnon says, and Thomas goes red, looks down, but not before he sees Anton go red too.


End file.
